


My son, my star

by Romiress



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman: Son of the Demon - Fandom
Genre: Adoption, But primarily positive, Gen, Post Son of the Demon, Some angst, based on art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Years after giving him up for adoption, Talia goes to see her son.
Relationships: Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104





	My son, my star

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired completely and totally by this [gorgeous piece](https://symeona.tumblr.com/post/620747537478041601/she-eventually-went-back-for-dami) by Symeona, and written with permission!

It takes six years for Talia to return to Brooksdale.

Six years is an eternity, and yet very little has changed at the old brick building. The only obvious difference is that the sign out from no longer reads _Welcome to Brooksdale Orphanage._ Instead, it's now _Welcome to Brooksdale Group Home._

She wonders what that changes, and decides that she doesn't actually care.

There's no doubt in her mind that her son is gone, so she doesn't waste time inquiring. Instead, she waits for an opportunity and slips inside, rifling through the old paper files kept in the administrator's office. It's child's play to get the information she needs, slipping out the way she came, right back to the rental car.

The address isn't far. She feels almost outside herself, like she's watching everything happening in third person. Like it isn't _real._ She's been waiting for it for so long that it no longer feels real.

The house is, in her opinion, _small and average._ It's deeply American, a two story house that could have existed in any town anywhere in America. There's a porch out front with a large swing, and freshly tended planters run across it. It's early afternoon, and a car sits in the driveway, someone already at home.

She wonders how long she'll have to wait, and knows at the same time that she'll wait as long as necessary.

But she doesn't have to wait long. A gang of boys come running up the street not five minutes later. Friends. Neighbors, probably.

And one of them is her son.

She doesn't doubt it for even a moment. She would know him anywhere, would know the angles of his face, the way his hair sticks up just right. There's a bandaid on his cheek and his outfit makes her wonder, but she doesn't let that stop her as she steps out of the car.

He isn't the only one, either. His friends dart off, back to their own houses, as her son heads up to the house mentioned in the file. He isn't wearing any shoes, and his clothes are all too big, but he charges right up the front path to the house, stopping only when he's on the porch. He furiously wipes his dirty feet on the mat, glancing over his shoulder as if checking to see if anyone's watching.

Someone is. She stands at the foot of the driveway, watching him go about his life. Their eyes meet, and Talia feels her heart soar.

It's him. It's her son. The love of her life, the flower of her heart. She had always wondered if she'd get a chance to meet him, and now she is, struck silent by everything that's happening.

He stands on the porch, staring down at her, and then turns fully, staring out at her. She wonders what he must think, but he's silent as she moves up the steps, bending down in front of him.

He has her eyes, the same bright green, and his mouth hangs open ever so slightly as he stares at her.

"I don't think I know you," he finally says, which is the truth, even if it hurts. She's a stranger to him, and she nods carefully, keeping a soft smile on her face and refusing to show anything else.

"We haven't met," she lies. "But I've been wanting to meet you for a long time."

He stares at her for a long moment, and then reaches up. His hand dips under the collar of the sweater that he's wearing, and he pulls out something deeply familiar to her.

It's the necklace she left with him, far too big for his small neck. She'd know it anywhere, and the fact that he's still wearing it in his day to day life, even though it's so valuable, stirs something in her.

But she can't let it happen.

"Before anything else," she says quietly, reaching out to take one of his hands in her own. "Are you happy here?"

With his parents. With the people who've raised him. Who've been in his life as long as he can remember. If he has the necklace, he must know that he was adopted, but that doesn't mean the people in the house aren't his parents just the same.

He nods his head, still silent. His eyes are wide as he stares at her, taking it all in.

She knows what he must think.

"I'm your aunt," she says, because she can't tell him the truth. Not when he's happy. Not when he's comfortable where he is. She isn't here to steal him away.

Even if she wants to.

His eyes widen, and he seems to buy it completely.

"You know my mom? Do you—"

The door behind them opens, and the woman in the doorway freezes mid-word, staring down at them. Talia keeps her hold on her son's small little hand, turning her head up towards the woman. She's sure that the woman is smart enough to know what to expect, and she also knows it must be a nightmare for her.

"You must be his mother," Talia says, and she can instantly see the relief on the woman's face. "I was just introducing myself."

"It... is very nice to meet you," the woman says, and only then seems to notice what her son is wearing. "Damian, where are your _shoes?_ What are you even wearing—"

"Nick has a rope swing over the river, but I fell in! He said I could have some clothes, but—"

"Alright, alright, that's more then enough. Go get cleaned up." She ushers him inside as Talia straightens up. Damian doesn't go in right away, hanging on the doorway and staring back at her as if expecting her to by gone by the time he's clean. His mother has to usher him inside, and only once he's gone does she turn back to Talia.

"What did you... say you were to him?"

"His aunt."

It's clear she doesn't believe that, and considering how much Damian's taken after her, Talia isn't surprised.

"He'll figure it out before long. You should probably come inside."

The house is the very picture of suburbia, but it's also a _home._ There are signs of Damian's presence everywhere, from the child-sized jacket hanging on the railing to the photos on the wall. Photos of him as a baby. Photos of him growing up. Milestones Talia never had a chance to see.

Damian's mother catches her looking, and her voice drops.

"We always wondered if you would... if you were going to come back for him. He won't be upstairs long, but..."

"I'm not here to take him away from you," she says quietly. "He's happy here. He has a life here. It would be... cruel of me to take him away."

Her life is safer, but it still isn't _safe._

"I just... wanted to be sure he was happy," Talia finishes.

"Very happy. Too happy, with how much trouble he gets into lately. My husband— I should call him, though."

"Of course. I'll just... stay here." Her eyes roam the photos, and the woman—still nameless—nods and excuses herself.

The photos tell a story of a happy child, growing up loved and wanted. There's picture after picture of Damian with his parents. With friends. An older couple appears that must be his grandparents.

Her heart breaks and heals over and over again. Her son is happy, but he's happy without her.

"I never introduced myself," the woman says as she returns, holding out her hand. "I'm Janet. My husband is James. And... I'm honestly not sure where to even begin, here."

Talia is about to offer a suggestion when Damian appears, practically flying down the stairs. His face lights up when he spots Talia, and he heads right up to her, his face split into a wide smile.

"You're still here!"

"We weren't going to send her away," Janet says with a sigh. "She wanted to meet you, after all. Now go sit down."

Janet ushers Damian towards the living room and couch within, and he sits down, hands in his lap as he sits up straight. He's staring at Talia expectantly, and Talia opts to join him, taking a seat on the same couch.

"I don't think I got your name..." Janet says, looking at her expectantly.

"Talia Head," she says, wishing she could say her real name. It would be easier. She hates lying to Damian, but the truth puts him in danger, and she can't risk that. "To stave off the obvious questions, my family are from overseas."

"What about my mom?" Damian asks, staring up at her. "Where's she? And my dad?"

Talia is walking a tightrope over a pit filled with glass shards.

"Your _biological_ father," she begins, careful with her emphasis, "is... the situation is complicated." She isn't sure what to say. Damian is so young, and she's unsure how much she should say. She's constantly aware of Janet's presence, and while she doesn't wish the woman was gone, it does make things more complicated.

"It's okay," Damian says with all the bravado of a child. "Mom says I'm really smart, I'm sure I can follow along."

Talia smiles at him, not doubting it for a moment, and then gives him the most child-friendly version of the truth.

"Your father is... a very good man. A kind man, whose job means that he helps a lot of people. He loved your mother very much, but he was..." She struggles to come up with a term for it. "Unwell. He was going to throw away everything he had to protect you, even if it meant that a lot of people would suffer. Your mother loves you very much, but she also knew that being with her wouldn't be what was best for you."

Damian's hands bunch up in his lap, and Janet's expression is pained. Talia suspects she must have known this sort of conversation would come, but having it is still painful. There's a long moment of silence that seems to stretch on forever, interrupted only by the arrival of a second car in the front drive.

Janet's husband, James, is a perfect match for Janet herself. He's in a suit when he arrives, and Talia can't help but note the similarities between Bruce and James. They have the same black hair, the same blue eyes. Even their jaw lines are similar. She feels a stab of pity for Janet: Damian resembles his adoptive father a great deal, but there's no similarities between Damian and Janet. Rather than people assuming he's adopted, she wonders how many people have wondered that Damian is James's son from a first marriage, or the product of infidelity.

He's obviously wary of the circumstances, but he's friendly enough, greeting Talia with a hand shake and small talk. They invite her for dinner, which she accepts.

It's obvious from the conversation that they want to know more about her, and Talia indulges them to a point. She talks about traveling around the world growing up. She describes her family situation as _complicated._ When Damian asks about other family, she tells him that they've all passed away on her side, which is true enough: Ra's is gone with the destruction of the last pit, and everyone else has gone with him.

"And my f— biological father?"

"He has family." She wonders if she should tell Bruce, but can only imagine what it would do to his life. "But I couldn't tell you much about them."

Janet prods Damian to talk about himself, and Talia is thankful for it. They talk for hours in the living room, and she learns so much about her son that at times she has to take a moment to recover. He's happy. He's living a normal, stable life, a life she could never have offered him. He is, most of all, _loved._

"I think it's time for you to go get ready for bed," Janet says, earning herself a number of protests from Damian. "She'll still be here when you get back, so go get changed."

She ushers him off, and James goes to stand by the bottom of the stairs and make sure Damian isn't listening in. Talia knows what's coming, but she's more prepared for it without Damian around. She can focus on then and now, rather then what could have been.

"I want to restate that I'm not here to take him away from you," she says, her voice even. "You're his parents. You raised him, and it would be... cruel of me to try and intervene in that."

It's the right thing to say, because they both visibly relax, exchanging a look between them.

"Damian was raised knowing he was adopted," James clarifies. "We knew it would be impossible to keep it a secret, and he's always been curious about his birth parents. We assumed he'd never get any sort of answer, so we weren't exactly prepared for this conversation."

"You handled it well," Janet says. "It was... well, a relief not to— you know."

She doesn't say, but Talia knows just what she means just the same. That it was a relief to hear Talia refer to her as Damian's mother. That Talia didn't try and claim ownership.

In her heart, Damian is her son, but that doesn't change that Talia knows who raised him. Who was there for him when he needed someone the most.

"I was... hoping to get a chance to know him," Talia admits. "To see the kind of person he's become."

There's another look exchanged, but Talia has faith anyway.

They're good people. They only want what's best for Damian.

"I think that's something we could do," Janet says after a moment. "It would be good for Damian to know about his birth parents. And..." She hesitates again. "And about his culture. He asked once, but we didn't know what to tell him. It was obvious that it bothered him, not knowing where his family was from."

Talia knows she'll never tell him the full truth. He's happy, and the last thing she wants to do is drag him into her world. The danger is too great.

"And Damian's birth father...?" James asks, and Talia opts to be direct.

"Doesn't know he exists. We were married and happy, but when I became pregnant things changed. I loved him for who he was. For his dedication to helping others... but he became obsessed with the idea of us being a perfect, happy family. He'd have let the whole world burn down if we were safe, and I couldn't recognize the man he'd become. I told him that I miscarried, and that broke us apart. He wasn't ready for kids then, and I'm not sure if he'll ever be."

They nod, and James abruptly leans back, signaling to them that Damian's coming.

"I should probably be going," Talia announces as Damian arrives. She's been there long enough. It's been hours, and she's sure they'll need time to recover. "I'll give you my information so that you can get into contact."

"Let me get my business card," James says quickly, and they exchange information as Damian watches, dressed in his pajamas and staring up at them.

"Damian, you should say goodnight to Miss Head," Janet says.

"Is she coming back?" Damian asks her immediately, and Janet smiles down at him.

"She will. Maybe not for a little bit, but she'll come back sometime soon, and the two of you will be able to talk more, alright? Now say goodbye."

Damian stares up at her, and Talia feels her heart crack in two. She should be happy: her son is doing well. He's loved.

But she's still leaving him behind again.

She bends down in front of him so she's able to look into his eyes, and he stares at her, his mouth hanging ever so slightly open. He's still wearing the necklace she gave him, although she suspects he's only wearing it right then because she's there.

"You're not my aunt, are you?" Damian says quietly. "You're my birth mom."

She doesn't look to his parents for insight. Instead, she answers from her heart.

"Yes."

"Can I hug you?"

Her heart, at last, is healed, and she reaches out, pulling Damian into a hug.

It's everything she's ever wanted, and she knows things are going to be alright.


End file.
